It's been a year... 2017 is slipping through my fingers about as fast as my toddlers can trash my house: and I assure you, that's FAST. I suppose the "sands of time" have always been pouring themselves out, scattering, lost on the floor, for ions before my tiny life blipped onto the time/space map. I'm just keenly aware of the precious value of each grain now. Every grain that escapes my hands, I gasp in shock, grieving the tragedy of lost time with the same ferocity as the first grain.
When was that, the first wound? I struggle to grasp which loss was the foundational one, but when I glance back, all I see is a series; a life built on loss after loss, grief after grief. And my mind, renewed in Christ, speaks against that clawing lie saying "What is rich, what is loved, what is wise, what is kind? Have you not had them all?" And yet my heart deceives me with its overwhelming agony.
For I have had them, and yet I have lost them. And those I have now I will yet lose. In every word and thought I feel my heart screaming out like the psalmist "why are you so downcast, oh, my soul?!"
Why will I lose them, you ask? Because that is the way of this world, the swirling and loss of those sands of time has preceded and it will follow my tiny life. This is the dying place after all. And that perhaps that is the grief we feel: that ever present weight of death on our shoulders, glimmering in the grays which sprout on our heads.
It's the same death that Christ came to bare, the one He conquered as He claimed victory over the grave. But where is this victory in my barren heart? How do I lay claim to the joy it promises? Why have you forsaken me, Lord? Why do my children despise me, and so many people insist on dishonest, fickle relationships? Why do I continue to look at food as a savior, when it is killing me? Why must I stand in a position to watch the worst grief of all as addicts die all around me and children bare the insidious abuse of their parents in every news article? My heart is so broken! Once it was just my life, now in my adulthood I can perceive an entire world of lives built on loss after loss and grief after grief!
"Where are you, Jesus?" I cry out near your tomb like Mary Magdalene, looking for my Savior, my Jesus, but He is hidden from me. I cannot recognize the "Rabboni," right in front of my own face! Give me eyes to see Lord, ears to hear, that I may recognize your beauty that is already before me. Everywhere I look I see death and despair, but please dear God show me the life left on this tiny insignificant planet!
Make apparent to me that tiniest "thrill of Hope" provided by the birth of your son...
For those closest to me, thank you for enduring the weight of this season with me. You have all kept such compassion as I fail daily it seems. I do not know when this season will end, but I know the grindstone will stop when necessary as He has promised in the Word.